


Picture Frame(d)

by ilovemygaydad



Category: Sander Sides, Sanders Sides, Thomas Sanders
Genre: Detective!AU, M/M, human!AU, royalty!au
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-28
Updated: 2019-05-29
Packaged: 2020-03-20 14:54:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,594
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18994867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ilovemygaydad/pseuds/ilovemygaydad
Summary: prompt: 2 - Royal AU; 13 - Detective AU and logincesummary: the prince has been receiving anonymous death threats in his own bedchamber, and the best detective in the land was hired to figure out who’s behind itwarnings: mentioned death threats, gay panic, swearing, anger, preconceived notions, mentions of rumors, panic attacks, crying, stimming, sass, stuttering, possibly something else





	1. Chapter 1

Roman knew that he should be honored and all that jazz that he was hired for the royal family. It was a really big deal to be trusted enough to even be _considered_ for the job.

However, he also knew that the crown prince was a giant fucking prick.

A giant fucking prick who he had to work for.

Because the giant fucking prick was so much of a giant fucking prick that he was receiving anonymous death threats from a member of his staff.

So when the door to the throne room was opened, and he was ushered inside, he couldn’t help but cringe a bit when he caught the sight of the prince’s curly red hair. Roman somehow magically maintained the ability to smile through his pain as he bowed deeply in front of the prince, glancing at the prince’s shoulder when he straightened up so not to incur some sort of wrath from simply  _looking_  at the prince.

“Good afternoon, your highness–”

“Oh, no, please,” the prince interjected. “It’s just Logan. It’s going to be a dreadfully long few days if you continue to use such formalities.”

“I… What?” Roman asked, stealing a quick glimpse up at the prince’s face, and–

Oh, wow…

His eyes were very green. Like the color of the jade dragon that his mother had kept from her home in China.

Oh no.

_Oh **no**._

“…and it really would be better for both of us if you maintained a more casual set of standards during the investigation. Detective, are you alright? You look as though you might faint. Do you need me to call for the physician?”

“No!” Roman said in a voice far too loud to be deemed alright. “No, I’m fine, your highness. I mean, Logan. I just got… lost in thought.”

_Wasn’t Logan supposedly a spoiled brat? He’s never been called anything but unpleasant by anyone for the entirety of his life._

The prince tilted his head to the side, but didn’t fight back. He sat lightly in his throne with an air of discomfort and waved over one of his staff. “Virgil, will you please get Detective Chu a chair and water for the both of us?”

The servant, Virgil, nodded quickly, scurrying from the room like a scared mouse. An awkward silence fell over the remaining two in the room until Virgil reappeared a few minutes later with a rolling office chair and a large platter full of pastries and a pitcher of water.

“I’m so sorry,” Virgil rushed as he shoved the chair in Roman’s direction and reached into a secret panel in the wall, retrieving a small table that he set up next to the prince. “I went to get a pitcher of water, and then Patton asked what I was doing, and I told him that you were meeting with the detective, and he said, ‘Without snacks?!’ And then he wouldn’t let me leave until he stocked up an entire tray with his pastries, and I tried to get here as fast as I could without spilling, and then I almost forgot the chair, and–”

“Deep breaths, Virgil,” Logan said while he slowly rose from his throne. “In for four, hold for seven, out for eight. Just like Picani says, right? All you have to do is breathe with me, and it’ll be okay. Ready?”

Roman watched in awe as the two went through a breathing exercise. The servant had started to hyperventilate a few times during the attempts to calm himself down, but Logan had provided calm words in the same gentle voice until his breathing stopped catching. When Virgil was fully calmed, Logan guided him to the throne, where he sat the servant down and kneeled down beside the throne.

_There’s no way that was allowed under palace rules…_

“Detective Chu and I forgive you for taking a bit longer than you had expected. Neither of us blame you–” For a second, it looked as if Virgil was going to interrupt, but Logan plowed on–  “Nor do I blame Patton. I have no doubts about your wanting to take care of us. Thank you very much for caring so much, but I will never be upset if you’re a mere few minutes late.”

Virgil didn’t meet the prince’s gaze as he nodded. Roman noted that the servant was chewing on the end of his sleeve as some sort of coping mechanism for his anxiety. It seemed that he and Logan were good friends, but that didn’t mean that Virgil couldn’t be plotting the prince’s murder. The same went for that other man, Patton, who Virgil had mentioned. He filed all of this information for further investigation.

“Sssssorry. I-I-I j-just wa-wa-wan-wanted to make ssssure y-you weren’t un-uncomf– _ugh_!” Virgil’s head fell into his hands in frustration.

“That’s alright, Virgil. I think that it would be best if you took the rest of the day off. Please send Joan in when you leave, and be sure to send thanks to Patton for the sweets, okay?”

Virgil nodded and left the room hurriedly. The prince watched his servant go with a deep frown before he settled back into his throne, taking one of the cookies and biting into it. He sighed and cast his gaze to the detective once more.

“I suppose that you have a few questions, Detective?”

“What? No, of course not–”

“Please, Detective,” Logan cut him off with a sharp wave of his hand. “I am well aware of the way that the media portrays my person. It would be a surprise if you hadn’t been swayed by their opinions.”

Roman’s façade faltered for a second until it shattered. “It’s just… You’re so  _nice_.”

“I certainly try to be. I don’t think that I would be nearly as content if my temperament was poor, nor would the palace staff.”

“Except for the one sending the threats, correct?”

The prince stiffened in his seat, nodding. “Yes. I… That would be an accurate assumption.”

Roman hummed and flipped his notepad open, pleased that he would finally be able to do his job. “And when did these threats start to pop up?”

“A little over a week ago. The notes were hidden my food at first, and then they were scattered in various places around my room.” Logan sighed. “I must say, Detective; it has become increasingly stressful to simply exist in this palace.”

“Who would have access to your bedroom?”

“No one that I wouldn’t trust.”

Roman arched his brow and leveled an unimpressed glare at Logan.

“It’s just Virgil, Joan, Patton, and myself.”

“Alright, well–”

“They’re my closest friends, Detective. I’d trust them with my life.” The look in Logan’s eyes spelled out a plea not to interrogate them, but Roman had a job to do, and a prince with an unfortunate habit to cut people off wasn’t going to get in the way of that.

“I understand, your highness, but I must know for myself whether or not they are truly trustworthy.”

The prince deflated in his seat. “Of course. My apologies.”

“It’s perfectly understandable for you to want to trust your friends, Logan.” Roman  _almost_  reached out to grab Logan’s hand–the  _prince’s_  hand–but he thankfully stopped himself. “If this weren’t such a dire situation, I may have been able to give your word some leeway; however, I’m unable to do so. I trust you, but what one believes is not always the truth.”

“That was… incredibly astute, Detective.”

Roman chuckled and stood up from the chair. “Thank you.” He walked to the door of the throne room, casting a glance over his shoulder at the prince. “And you can call me Roman.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> warnings: mentioned death threats, gay panic, lots of swearing, anger, panic attacks, sass, stuttering, verbal conflict, rudeness, deceit (as a character; named damien), deceit (as in lying and deceit), yelling, manhandling and pushing, frustration, and possibly something else

If there was one thing that infuriated Roman to no end, it would definitely be when he couldn’t find a lead to save his life.

And he couldn’t fucking find one.

He’d been on this case for weeks, and he’d interrogated every staff member half a dozen times with no results. Virgil, Patton, Joan, Talyn, Remy–he’d even talked to the delivery people–had given their stories and alibis, and they all checked out!

And there was one person who he thought he’d hit a home-run on, but it turned out that the kid only spoke French. Thank fucking  _god_ that Dr. Picani was fluent, or Roman would have had to hire a damn interpreter.

And guess what? The kid didn’t know anything! He’d never even heard of the notes until they asked.

So yeah, Roman was pretty damn frustrated. It wasn’t his fault that this whole investigation was falling apart at the seams, and Logan’s life was still on the line.

“He’s got to be involved, Roman,” Logan murmured. They were standing on the other side of a one-way mirror, watching the kid draw in a pad of paper. “He showed up just a month before the notes started appearing. It can’t be a coincidence.”

Roman hummed, deep in thought. He was going over what they had learned about the kid. Damien Gauthier, age twenty-one. Immigrated to the country at twenty and picked up a job at the palace around a month before the threats began. Works in the kitchens handling deliveries and preparing ingredients for the higher-ranking chefs. According to Patton, the kid was shy and reserved. He rarely spoke. The scarring on the left side of his face were from a burn (around his eye) and friction burn (the rest of that side of his face).

It just didn’t add up.

“I’d love to believe that we’ve found our terrorist, Lo, but there’s just no evidence. I can’t go around arresting people on a hunch.”

Logan deflated a bit. “I know… I’m just scared, I guess.”

“Hey,” Roman whispered, placing his hand gently on Logan’s shoulder. “It’s gonna be okay. I’ll figure it out. I’m sure what we’re missing is right in front of our faces.”

“Yeah… Yeah, I’m sure that you’re right.” The prince sighed. “I’m going to go back to my bedroom. I’d advise that you go see the secretary; I believe that she has mail for you.”

Roman smiled and took a few steps towards the door. “Have a good afternoon, Sleeping Beauty.”

“You too, Prince Charming.”

* * *

Roman was going to redact his previous statements. The thing that infuriated him the most was when he got conned into believing the same damn prince that he had  _known_  was bad news from the beginning was secretly a good person.

He should have fucking known. The second that he saw the fucking notes, he should have been able to figure it out. The handwriting wasn’t even that different from Logan’s. He barely changed it at all, yet Roman fell for the mystery.

~~He fell for Logan.~~

The results of the handwriting analysis had come back. They showed that the person who wrote them was left handed. Logan was a leftie, and Damien was right handed. Upon closer inspection from Roman, he noticed that the “a”s matched up almost perfectly with the ones on the rendezvous letter that Logan had left with him one particularly stressful night.

No one was threatening Logan.

The notes were just some attempt to frame Damien.

Roman flung the door to Logan’s bedroom open with more force than necessary, but he didn’t really care with all of the red clouding his thoughts.

“Roman, what are you–”

“What kind of an idiot do you take me for?!” Roman screamed, grabbing Logan by the collar and lifting him from his chair onto his feet. “Did you seriously think that I would be so stupid that I’d put an innocent man to death without evidence? Am I a joke to you?”

“What are you going on about?” Logan’s hands wrapped around Roman’s wrists, and horror shone clear in his eyes.

Roman’s voice turned too sweet too fast. “The lab results for the handwriting analysis came back, Lo. Left handed. Unlike our prime suspect, and just like you. Not to mention your pathetic attempt to mask your handwriting failed miserably.”

“It’s not what it looks like–”

“Oh, I’m pretty damn sure it’s exactly what it looks like,” Roman said; his voice gradually gained volume once more. “You played me like a damn fiddle! I fell for–”  ~~You~~ – “your innocent schtick, but you were completely free of guilt, trying to send that kid to death! I can’t believe you thought so poorly of my intelligence. And–holy  _shit_ –you were so fucking awful to risk your friends’ lives in your scheme! They could have been found guilty, and I bet you wouldn’t have cared. You’re just insufferable!”

Logan was still clinging to Roman’s wrists, but his expression edged almost on regret. “Roman, I swear to you that I would  _never_  try to incriminate an innocent person! He’s hiding something! I’ve seen it, Ro; he’s–”

“Save it,” Roman spat in a menacing whisper. “I don’t want to listen to you for a second longer than I have to. Go cry to your damn servants…” He leaned in close to the prince’s face. “That is, if they trust you anymore.”

In one fluid motion, Roman threw Logan back into his chair and stalked out of the room, leaving the prince gasping for breath.

* * *

“Um, excuse me, Detective,” Virgil said as he walked into Roman’s bedroom at the palace.

Roman threw him a vicious glare over his shoulder. He’d been hastily throwing his belongings and tools back into his suitcase for about an hour in preparation to vacate the palace as soon as humanly possible. He desperately wanted to go home and wallow in his sorrow and anger without the constant reminder that, hey, the prince fucking conned me for nearly a month! That’s cool, huh?!

“What do you want?”

“Oh, well, um… Well, I came to tell you that the cab you requested won’t, um… It won’t be able to come.” Virgil shied away from the intensity of Roman’s stare, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Roman spoke up again.

“So order another one.”

“I, um, can’t.”

Roman felt time still as he fully turned around. “What?”

Virgil took a step back and curled further into himself. He was nearly impossible to hear as he said, “There’s a huge blizzard coming through. We’re stranded in the palace for a few days until the storm passes and a bit of the snow clears.”

“You’ve got to be  _fucking_  kidding me!” Roman muttered to himself, dropping onto his bed.

“I-I’m sorry! I can try t-t-to get s-someone to come in–”

“No, I’m sorry.” Roman waved the servant off. “I’m just upset. I shouldn’t be taking it out on you.”

_I should be taking it out on the real culprit, but I’d rather avoid committing a capital offense._

Virgil gave a tiny, scared nod. “Okay. Uh, if you need anything–”

“Just call. I know,” Roman said with a gentle smile. “Thanks, Virgil.”

“Uh, yeah… Bye.”

Virgil was out of the door before Roman could even think to respond.

With a sigh, the detective flopped back onto his bed. It was just his sour luck that he would be stranded in this godforsaken palace with  _Logan_. The prince of his dreams. Stupid, handsome, deceitful  _Logan_. He muttered a few Chinese and English curses under his breath, feeling the full exhaustion of the day weigh on him like a thick blanket. Without the drive to get the hell out of Dodge, Roman was sleepy as hell. His eyes fluttered closed. It wasn’t as if he was missing anything important if he fell asleep.


End file.
